


Forged

by billfortyone



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Coming of Age, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23880454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billfortyone/pseuds/billfortyone
Summary: Compared to other pokemon trainers, I wasn’t dealt the best hand of cards, but I’m still determined to become Galar’s Champion. My pokemon are the flames, I’m the iron, and the world is gonna hit me until I’m sharp enough to cut diamond… or at least until I’m good enough to get an endorsement...o-o-o-o"Forged" is the the coming of age story of a young boy thrust into the Galar training world with nothing but lofty expectations of himself.
Kudos: 1





	Forged

When I was little, my parents told me stories about their pokémon journeys to help me fall asleep. After I had done a few years of growing and actually understood what pokémon training was, I decided that I was going to become one myself. Soon, I was the one telling the stories at bedtime.

My fantastical tales of utterly crushing the gym leaders and teaching my legendary pokémon the most powerful moves in existence were soon outshined by my even more outrageous stories of defeating the champion. Actually, most of my thoughts when I was little revolved around me becoming the champion. Something about having thousands of loyal fans all cheering my name as I took on the role of the most powerful trainer in all of Galar just felt right. My mom thought it was cute. My dad liked to say it was because I was born to two ex-gym challengers. The latter made enough sense to me.

When I turned eight and my parents had noticed that my obsession with pokémon training hadn’t waned at all, they decided to take my goal a little more seriously. My dad was ecstatic. As an accomplished gym challenger himself, having a son that had the same goal that he used to pumped him up with nothing but paternal pride. My mom, though also excited, was able to contain her emotions marginally better and put her excitement to more productive causes. While my dad would drag me outside to show me how cool his talonflame was, my mom would stay inside and try to register me for the trainer’s school at Turffield Gym (we lived only a few minutes away from downtown Turffield, where the gym was located).

The hope was not that trainer’s school would help me learn about pokémon battling (both my parents made it abundantly clear that they could teach me far better than the school ever could), but more so to help me land an endorsement. Apparently I couldn’t even think about challenging gym leaders until I was given one. This was news to me. And on top of that, as I would soon learn, endorsements were extremely competitive.

On my first day of school, my teacher told our class that out of all the thousands of kids that lived in Turffield, under 30 of them could hold an endorsement letter at a time. That didn’t faze me in the slightest. Though the other kids in my class looked like they were drowning in their broken dreams, my undying optimism kept me afloat. I didn’t see the problem. All I had to do was get a pokémon, train it up really hard, show my teachers how good I was, and then I’d be endorsed. My logic was flawless.

What wasn’t all that easy, was school. I mean, it was easy, but it was hard to stay awake. Most of what they taught us in school were concepts that my parents had already taught me at home. By the looks of it, a lot of the other students in my class were in the same boat. Only families that were really serious about the League cared to enroll their kids in a school like this. For the first month, the only battles we fought were against our own drowsiness.

As the weeks drudged on, I did end up learning something really important: I hated grass pokémon. All the pokémon that I was eventually able to battle with at school, mostly gossifleur, oddish, and budew, were bland as heck. Plus, they made me sneeze. What luck, enrolling in a school known for grass pokémon only to sneeze whenever I was around one.

Pokémon training was simply not for me, I concluded.

“I don’t want to go to trainer’s school anymore,” I told my parents.

My mom was taken aback. “Why do you say that, sweetie?”

“I’m not learning anything. Also my nose itches every time I battle. I think it’s all the grass pokémon, I don’t like them.”

My dad stifled a laugh. Mom elbowed him.

“Well, you’ve wanted to become a gym challenger for practically your whole life, you don’t want to throw away your chance, do you?” asked my mother.

“I guess not…”

She laid a hand on my shoulder and smiled. “When we pick out your starter pokémon together, I can promise that it won’t be a grass pokémon. And I’m sure it’ll get better soon. I promise.”

It did not get better soon.

My mom needed to relocate for work, which meant that we had to uproot from sleepy Turffield and move to the suburbs of Hulbury. My dad had to sell his landscaping business and I had to sacrifice training school. My parents assured me that they would get to work right away trying to enroll me in the Hulbury Gym’s training school, but yet again I was hit with a bout of bad luck.

Hulbury Gym refused to enroll me. After a few very angry phone calls (my mother was practically screaming at the poor phone operator), we had learned that Turffield had lost my records. That blunder meant that my achievements, grades, awards or anything that I had amassed in Turffield didn’t exist. To Hulbury Gym, I was nothing but a new trainer.

It took me a few weeks to slowly understand what this meant. Without going to trainer’s school, I couldn’t be endorsed, and without an endorsement I couldn’t challenge the gyms. And without challenging the gyms, I couldn’t be the champion. Back to normal school I went. I was crushed.

My tenth birthday came and went. I didn’t get a starter pokémon, as my parents had said that it wouldn’t be a good financial investment if I never became a trainer. Plus, I hadn’t shown any interest in pokémon training. I mean, school didn’t work out that well back in Turffield, so maybe training really wasn’t my thing. I said it was fine.

But alas, it wasn’t fine. I was seriously ticked off. In the back on my mind I yearned to challenge gyms like I always said I would. I still followed the Champion Cup closely, but watching it made me twinge with jealousy. What made those trainers different from me? Were they just luckier? How come they got endorsed and I didn’t? It didn’t make sense. None of it did.

One day, I snapped. “Why can’t you and dad just buy a pokémon for me and send me out on my own journey like the other trainers do from other regions?” I asked my mom. She was making dinner.

“Because that’s just not how it works here, honey. You need to be endorsed. Without challenging the gyms, you can’t make any real money,” she answered, unfazed. She didn’t even stop chopping the vegetables to answer me.

I rolled my eyes. “Well why can’t I just go out on a journey, get really strong or good or whatever, and then get an endorsement after I made a bit of a name for myself? Don’t any trainers do it that way?”

My mom opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“Sure, many do, that’s what I did,” my dad cut in. “I was endorsed by Braviary Recreational Equipment.” He had been eavesdropping from the couch and answered without even thinking.

“What?” I didn’t even know that. I had assumed that both my parents took the same route that I did, trying to get one from a trainer’s school.

“Yeah, plenty of companies and organizations can hand out endorsements if they sponsor the League.” He turned around to face me. “Did you really think that trainer’s school was the only way to get one?”

“You guys never told me!”

“Huh. Yeah well-” His eyes met Mom’s, whose gaze was staring daggers at him. This time she cared enough to put the knife down. He threw his hands up in the air. “What?”

My mom gestured at him to stop talking and then turned to me. “Yes, sweetie, some trainers do start out that way, but it takes an awfully long time to land an endorsement like that. Your father was on the road for several years before getting his first offer.”

“Why didn’t you tell me I could do it that way?” That was frustrating. If I only knew I could just start, I just would have done that from the get-go. I wouldn’t have had to suffer alongside grass pokémon for months on end, or have had to feel any sadness or anger when Turffield called and said they lost my records. Heck, I wouldn’t have even had to step foot in that godforsaken building complex.

“Because then we would have to pay for everything. Your gear, your food, just to name a few things. Really, everything. It’s a huge investment.”

I frowned. “But I’m a good trainer, right? You guys have taught me, you know that.”

“I’m sorry, Will, but it just doesn’t make sense right now.” She started cutting vegetables again.

“But mom!”

“No. That’s my final answer.”

I looked at my dad, desperate for a second opinion. He only shrugged and made a face.

Most of my attempts to try and get my parents to let me train ended in the same way. It was no use; I had to have tried at least a dozen times in the next few weeks. Then another dozen the next month. And then another dozen times in the next dozen months. Soon I was eleven, then twelve, and still pokémon-less.

But I never doubted the power that I held as their only child. Soon they would break. I would convince them, I knew I would.

I was sure of it.


End file.
